"Langerman's going up North? He'll be surrounded by damn Yankees." I started laughing. "He'll start the Civil War all over again—and probably lose it, too!"
Grandma chuckled. "I never liked that boy or his father." Getting to her feet, she said, "I'd best get dinner started. Why don't you hunt up June for me?"
I walked down to Nancy's house, still grinning to myself about Langerman. Without him around, I might find some guys to hang out with. Now that I'd ruined things with William, I could use a friend or two.
June was playing paper dolls on Nancy's front porch. When she saw me coming, she jumped up and ran to meet me. "Guess what, Gordy? Nancy's having a birthday party and I'm invited! She's having a big cake from the bakery and ice cream and pony rides!"
"That's great, June Bug."
June turned and waved good-bye to Nancy. "See you tomorrow," she called. To me, she said, "It's the first birthday party I've ever been invited to. I hope I know what to do."
I grinned at her. "You'll figure it out, June Bug. A smart cookie like you."
While June and I walked home, cars sped past us, horns honking, radios blaring, folks yelling out the windows. Firecrackers still banged and popped all over town. It seemed the whole country was happy tonight, including June and me.
Twenty-four
A couple of nights later, I was sprawled on the living room floor listening to "Suspense" on the radio. It was scarier than usual. June huddled on the sofa with her hands over her ears, afraid to stay and listen, afraid to leave and miss what happened next.
Grandma came in from the kitchen and sat down beside her. "Silly," she whispered, putting her arm around her. "It's just a radio show, honey."
When the show's sponsor stopped the action for an advertisement, Grandma leaned toward me and said, "I have something to tell you, Gordy."
I looked up, scared it might be bad news, but she was smiling.
"The Sullivans are back," she said. "I just saw the car in the driveway."
I jumped up and ran to the window, practically knocking the screen out to get a look at the Sullivans' house. Sure enough, lights shone from the windows, including William's room.
"Can I go over there?" I was halfway out the door when Grandma called me back.
"Not tonight, Gordy," she said. "It's late and they're probably tired. Wait till tomorrow."
"But—"
"No buts," Grandma said in her strictest voice. "And no flashing lights in William's window either," she said as I started up the stairs. "That child needs his rest."
I flung myself down on the carpet. The commercial was over and the show was starting again. A door creaked open, somebody screamed, and June whimpered. Would the lady escape from the crazy man? Or would she join his other victims buried in the basement? That took my mind off William for a while.
At bedtime, Grandma made me promise not to disturb William. I stared at his window for a long time, hoping maybe he'd flash an SOS at me, but his room stayed dark and silent. If it hadn't been for the lights downstairs and the car in the driveway, I wouldn't have known William was back.
The next day, Grandma refused to let me go knock on William's door. She said I had to wait till I was invited.
"Remember," she said, "Mrs. Sullivan wasn't very pleased with you the last time she saw you. You'd best wait and see how she feels about you now."
I took a seat on the front porch, where I'd be in plain sight, and tried to read a Captain Hornblower story in the new Saturday Evening Post. But it was hard to keep my mind on it.
June, Nancy, and some new girl named Linda were jumping rope on the front walk. "Bow to the captain, bow to the queen," June chanted. "Touch the bottom like a submarine." Whap, whap, whap went the rope against the concrete. Squeal, squeal, squeal went the girls.
Above the racket they were making, I heard someone call my name. I looked up and there was William, standing at the gate grinning at me.
I tore down the front walk, messing up the jump-rope game, and skidded to a stop in front of him. This close, I realized he wasn't standing all by himself. Like a veteran home from the war, he had crutches fitted to his arms and braces on his legs, but he was on his feet, looking straight across at me for the first time.
Neither one of us said anything for a minute. We just stood there grinning like idiots.
"You're walking," I whispered. Then I let out a whoop and yelled, "You're walking, William! I knew you could!"
William's grin got wider and wider. "Not exactly," he said. "I can't stand up without crutches, but I'm getting stronger every day."
The noise we were making got June's attention. Dropping the jump rope, she came running to see what was going on. Nancy and Linda were right behind her.
"You're the boy with polio," Nancy said, her eyes wide. "I thought you couldn't walk."
"Do those things on your legs hurt?" Linda asked.
"Can I try your crutches sometime?" June asked.
"Go on," I said, "get out of here, you little monsters. Scram!"
The girls scattered, giggling.
As soon as they were gone, I started asking William my questions. "Were you really at your aunt's house all summer? How come you didn't send me a postcard or tell me when you were coming home? Why didn't you let me know you were learning to walk? Did you—"
"Lord, Gordy," William broke in. "Don't ask so many questions. You're giving me a headache."
"You're not still sore at me, are you?"
"Of course not. Why, in some ways, I have you to thank for this. If you hadn't taken me down to the park that day, Mother might never have gotten the idea to go to the special polio hospital in Minnesota."
"That's where you've been? All the way to Minnesota? William, that's more than halfway across America. How did you get there?"
"On the train."
I sighed, remembering the passenger trains that sped through College Hill. "You lucky duck. I bet you slept in a Pullman, didn't you? And ate fancy dinners and rode in one of those observation cars with a glass roof?"
Ignoring my questions about the train, William went on talking about the place he'd gone to. "The doctors told Mother I wasn't as bad off as she thought. They said she's been overprotecting me."
I grinned to myself. I could have told William that and not charged him one red cent, either.
"The doctors claim all I need is a little encouragement, plus lots of therapy and hard work." William paused a moment and looked me hard in the eye. "If I keep at it, Gordy, I might be walking all by myself next summer."
I hollered so loud my voice bounced back from the house across the street. "That's great, William, that's great!" I shouted, letting my mind race ahead, picturing the fun we'd have. First of all, I'd get a bike like the one in his garage. We'd pack lunches, go down in the woods across the train tracks, build a hut, start a gang—
"William," Mrs. Sullivan called from his front porch. "Better come in now. You mustn't tire yourself on your first day home."
"Come with me," William said. "One of my cousins gave me his old Erector set. It's all metal, made before the war. The kind you can't get nowadays."
I took a quick look at Mrs. Sullivan, but I couldn't decide if she was glaring at me or just squinting because the sun was in her eyes. "How about your mother?" I asked. "Is she still mad at me?"
William shook his head. "I don't think so."
Hoping he was right, I started toward his house, matching my steps to his. Walking was hard work for William. He winced sometimes, and his knuckles were white from gripping the crutches, but he swung himself along, doing his best to move his feet. Once or twice I reached out to steady him, but he shook his head. "I have to do it myself," he said, clenching his teeth.
When we reached the porch, Mrs. Sullivan said hello to me and asked if I'd had a nice summer. "Are you all ready for school, Gordon?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said, hating to be reminded that prison opened in three weeks.
"Isn't it wonderful to see William up on his
feet?"
"Yes, ma'am, it sure is."
Luckily Mrs. Sullivan decided to quit talking after that. It was a strain for both of us to be so polite to each other.
Once we were upstairs in William's room, it was almost as if he'd never been away. While we fooled around with the Erector set, I told William about the old man's return. I figured he'd hear his mother's version soon enough. He might as well know what really happened.
William listened to the whole story without saying a word. Just sat there, eyes wide, taking in the details. When I got to the end, he said, "Your mother didn't even say good-bye?"
"Nope." Trying to fit two pieces of metal together, I jabbed my thumb. It started to bleed so I stuck it in my mouth to make it stop.
"You must feel terrible," William said.
I shrugged. "Mama and I never did get along too good."
Without any warning, a big hole opened up inside me, and before I could stop myself I fell straight down to the bottom. I tried to turn off the waterworks, but tears shot out of my eyes like rain after a dry spell. It seemed I'd been fighting them for weeks and today I'd lost the battle.
William reached out and patted my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gordy," he said.
I almost yelled at him to leave me alone, but I was blubbering too hard to talk. I don't know how long it took me to pull myself together, but when I'd finally stopped crying, I wiped my eyes on my shirttail and glared at William.
"If you ever say a word about me bawling," I said, "I'll hit you so hard you won't come down to earth for a year." As soon as the threat left my mouth I was sorry, but William just nodded as though he understood.
"I swear I'll never tell a soul," he said, crossing his heart.
"You better keep your promise," I muttered, "because I sure don't want to hit you."
"Don't worry," William said solemnly, "you and I are friends, Gordy. And friends don't betray each other."
"You talk just like a book sometimes," I said, teasing him so he wouldn't notice how glad I was he'd said we were friends.
William picked up a curved Erector piece. "See this? If we find more like it, I bet we could build the Eiffel Tower."
We hunted through the pieces, separating them into piles according to their shape and size. When we had enough of the curved ones, William started building the base. He worked quickly, fitting things neatly together. I sat back on my heels and watched the tower take shape. William was better with the Erector pieces than I was, just as he was better at building model planes. He had more patience.
By the time Mrs. Sullivan came upstairs to check on us, William had almost finished the tower. "See what Gordy and I built, Mother?"
"Very nice," she said, bending down to kiss the top of William's head. "Is it the Eiffel Tower?"
William nodded and pulled away, his face red. I guess he was embarrassed, but I couldn't help wondering what it would be like to have a mother who did mushy things like that. Mama had never kissed me. Unless it was way back when I was Bobby's size and I just couldn't remember—like the vacation in Ocean City and the trip to Griffith Stadium. It seemed to me good things were easier to forget than bad things.
"I guess I'll go on home," I said, thinking I'd say it before Mrs. Sullivan had a chance to tell me to scram.
"Come back tomorrow, Gordon," Mrs. Sullivan said. "You and William might want to build the Empire State Building next."
"Good idea," William said, grinning at me.
I nodded, too surprised to say anything. Impossible as it seemed, Mrs. Sullivan sounded almost friendly.
Jumping to my feet, I said good-bye and ran down the stairs. Out the door I went, across the lawn, and over the fence to Grandma's yard. I could hardly wait to tell her about William. If I knew her, she'd be just as excited as I was.
As soon as I came through the front door, I smelled dinner cooking. Ham, I guessed, and apple pie for dessert. In the dining room, June was setting the table for four, which meant Donny would be joining us when he got off work. She laid the forks, knives, and spoons down carefully, lining them up just right.
Out in the kitchen, I heard Grandma singing "This Land Is Your Land." She was really belting it out, putting her whole heart into it.
"Hey, Grandma," I shouted, "I'm home!"
And do you know what? It was true. I was home. And happy to be there.
Following My Own Footsteps Page 13